


conversations

by Wolfsbane



Category: Mad Men
Genre: F/M, Post-Finale, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2018-07-14 15:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7178432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbane/pseuds/Wolfsbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short Stan/Peggy ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stan slammed his hand down on the alarm clock next to his bed. Without opening his eyes, he felt around the right side of his bed and was dismayed to find it was empty. He sat up and saw Peggy crouching down by the foot of his bed. She was completely naked except for her red and white underwear. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she peered under his bed. 

“Peggy?”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Good morning,” she said. “You sleep like a log. That alarm’s been ringing for five minutes.”

“What are you doing?” Stan asked, stifling a yawn.

“Looking for my brassiere.”

He’d all but ripped off her clothes when they had arrived at his apartment the previous evening. Stan had slept with a lot of women over the years but he’d never experienced anything quite like this. He had not expected Peggy to respond favorably to his confession of love and he was still in a state of disbelief several hours later. When he finally got her back to his apartment, it was like an atomic bomb exploded. Five and a half years of pent up sexual tension was released all at once. Her dress was discarded as soon as she walked through the door. He'd torn his shirt off so frantically he'd be surprised if it was still in one piece.

“It’s seven thirty," Stan said. "Come back to bed.”

“I have to go home and get ready for work.”

“Peggy, _it’s_ _Saturday_.”

“I have a deadline. Ah, there it is.” She plucked the white lacy bra from where it had been hanging on Stan’s bedside lamp.

“It’s not until Tuesday,” Stan argued. “You have plenty of time. Stay with me.”

Peggy looked up from fastening her bra and considered him for a few moments.

“You’re right,” she agreed after a while.

Peggy unfastened her bra and crawled back into bed with him. She rested her head on his chest as if she had done it a hundred times before.

“You want breakfast?” Stan asked as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Sure. Got anywhere in mind?”

“We don’t have to go out. I think I have eggs and bacon in the fridge.”

“You can cook?” Peggy asked as she glanced up at him, a look of disbelief crossing her face.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Stan said defensively.

“I never really associated you with any kind of domestic chore.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a chef but I can make a few basic meals.”

Peggy laid her head back down on his chest and absentmindedly played with his beard with her fingertips.

“I thought I knew you so well but apparently I barely even scratched the surface,” she murmured.

“I could say the same about you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stan turned the page of the photo album and his eyes settled on an old black and white photograph of a family. A beaming mother, a proud father, a smiling ten year old girl, and a tiny baby with a contemptuous look on her face.

“This has to be you,” Stan said to Peggy as he pointed to the baby in the picture. “I recognize the scowl. You look like your dad.”

“People used to tell us that a lot.”

They were sitting in Peggy’s sister’s living room. After some prodding, Peggy had reluctantly agreed to take Stan along to dinner with her family. Peggy’s mother and sister were busily preparing dinner in the kitchen, her brother-in-law had gone upstairs to take a nap, and her nephews were in their room completing their homework. Stan and Peggy had been left alone in the living room with only the family photo album for company.

Stan thumbed quickly through the album, stopping every now and then to comment on a picture of Peggy. Peggy as a wide-eyed toddler. Peggy at her first communion. Peggy in her plaid school uniform. An awkward teenaged Peggy with her sister on her wedding day. He lingered on a photo of Peggy standing by a fireplace, wearing an A-line dress. Her long hair was tied back into a ponytail with a bow and her forehead was covered completely by her bangs. She was holding the arm of a boy with thick glasses and slicked back blond hair.

“I was in secretarial school then,” Peggy said. “I was nineteen.”

“Those are the straightest bangs I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, it looks cute on you,” Stan insisted. “I like your ponytail too. Who’s that guy?”

“Dennis Connell, the son of one of Ma’s friends,” Peggy answered. “His breath always smelled like rotting fish. We were going to a church dance.” She lowered her voice and whispered as though she were telling him an awful secret. “I had my first kiss that night.”

“With Fish Breath?”

“No,” Peggy said quietly and glanced quickly in the direction of the kitchen where her mother and sister were arguing over how much butter to put in the mashed potatoes. “It was with Larry O’Brien. My mother hated his mother and she didn’t like him much either. Dennis was dancing with another girl and I was sitting alone. Larry came over to me and we talked about our mothers and his college and my secretarial school. He asked me to go outside for fresh air and we necked in the church garden for a full minute. If my mother ever found out she’d kill me.”

“It was twelve years ago,” Stan said, raising an eyebrow.

“You underestimate my mother.”

Stan turned the page and turned his attention to a photo at the bottom. _Gerard Jr’s fifth birthday_ was scrawled underneath in black pen. A young boy (presumably the six foot four teenager who looked far too tall to be related to Peggy he had met earlier) was sitting at a table, staring hungrily at the birthday cake in front of him. Younger versions of Peggy’s sister and brother-in-law sat on either side of him. He noticed a plump young woman standing in the background, watching the boy with a glum expression on her face. It wasn’t until he took a closer look at her face that he realized it was Peggy. She had the same hairstyle she’d had in the previous photograph, except her face was much chubbier. She wore a loose fitting grey dress in a vain attempt to hide her bulging stomach.

“You, uh-”

“I was pregnant,” Peggy confirmed quietly, almost as if she had read his mind. Her face had gone as white as a sheet.

Stan quickly slammed the album shut and placed it on the coffee table.

“You okay?” he asked, gently touching her thigh.

“I-I need to go to the bathroom.”

Peggy stood up abruptly and left the room. Stan stared after her, wondering whether he should go after her or if it was best to let her be alone for a few minutes. They’d been dating for a few weeks now and the topic of her baby had never come up, though he had caught her staring at a mother and her young son on the subway several days before. It was obvious that Peggy was still scarred by that time in her life and he hated watching helplessly as she dealt with the pain all on her own. He wanted to help her more than anything, but it was still too early in the relationship and he didn’t want to come on too strong. For now, all he could do was be there for her.


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy had been apprehensive about introducing Stan to her family. She knew from experience that Stan didn’t make a good first impression and god knows what her mother would think of Stan’s lack of facial grooming and eclectic fashion sense.

As it turned out, her fears were largely unfounded. Stan could be very charming when he had to be. He bonded with Gerry and her nephews over sports(Stan had gone to college on a football scholarship). Her mother was completely won over as soon as she found out that his father’s side of the family was Catholic (though Peggy suspected Stan himself hadn't set foot in a church in years). Over dessert, he told them the story of how he had pined for Peggy for five years before she finally gave him a chance. By the end, Anita was tearing up and saying it was the romantic thing she'd ever heard. Peggy practically had to tear him away from them at the end of the evening.

“If my mother knew what you just did to me,” Peggy said to Stan later that night as she lay in bed, her head resting on his chest. “Then I doubt she’d like you that much.”

Stan looked down at her and smirked. It was remarkable how much a bearded thirty-six year old man could remind her of a mischievous little boy. Nothing had changed that much between them. They still worked until the early hours of the morning and argued over everything, whether it was work-related or not. The main difference was that now they could work naked in her bed and their arguments were often resolved by kissing and dirty talk.

“You know, I can hear your accent when you talk to your mother.”

“What?” Peggy blinked. “I don’t have an accent.”

“Especially when she annoys you,” Stan continued. “It’s like someone flips a switch and you turn back into a Brooklyn schoolgirl.”

“I do not!”

“I like it,” Stan said, grinning. “We should have dinner with her every week.”

“I already see her once a month,” Peggy said. “That’s already more than enough.”

“I like your mother.”

“That's because she doesn't call you every week and demand to know why you aren't married yet."

“She’s proud of you,” Stan said. “I can tell.”

"She doesn't care," Peggy said. "When I called to tell her I was moving to McCann, she just grunted and tried to set me up with one of Gerry’s friends.”

"She is proud of you. She's just the type of stubborn person who doesn’t like to admit she's proud of her kids. Trust me, I know.”

Peggy closed her eyes and listed to the beating of Stan’s heart as he ran his hands through her hair, curling the ends with his fingertips.

“I need a haircut,” Peggy said softly. “It’s getting long.”

"Don't,” Stan murmured. “I like your hair long."

"You have enough hair for the both of us.”

“I mean it,” Stan insisted. “You should grow it out. It would suit you.”

“Maybe,” Peggy said. Truth be told, she had been thinking about growing her hair out again, but was reluctant as she knew much time and effort it took to manage. “I’ll think about it.”

“What about bringing back the bangs?”

“Don’t push your luck.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Sometimes I can’t believe it,” Peggy said, pouring herself a third glass of whiskey.

They were in her office on Friday night. There were leftover Chinese takeout boxes on her coffee table. Stan was lying on her couch, deep in concentration as he sketched.

“What can’t you believe?” Stan asked, not looking up from his sketchpad.

“That we’re actually together,” Peggy said. “We used to hate each other.”

“You hated me? I never hated you.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Well, you could be pretty irritating but I never hated you.”

Peggy watched as Stan sat up and poured his own glass of whiskey. Being with Stan was so different to every other relationship she’d ever been in. Even without the influence of marijuana, Stan was still so relaxed about everything. It was a welcome change. Mark expected her to be someone she wasn’t and Abe was constantly on edge about a deadline or some injustice he was passionate about.

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

Peggy downed her whiskey and her eyes lingered on the glass for a few moments.

“How long have you been in love with me?” she asked finally. It was a question she'd wanted to ask for weeks now but had never felt the time was right.

“I guess it started that weekend we worked on Vicks,” Stan answered. “But I didn’t realize it until you left the agency and suddenly I didn’t enjoy going to work as much as I used to. I would have told you sooner, but you were with Abe and Ted, and then I started dating Elaine. One morning I woke up and I looked over at Elaine and I started thinking about you. That was the beginning of the end."

“All this time I thought you were just a meathead jock who could draw,” Peggy said. "I can't believe I never noticed."

"I did my best to hide it. Why else do you think I grew this thing?" Stan joked, gesturing to his beard.

“I’ve forgotten what you look like under all that hair.”

“I can shave it off if you want.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I thought you didn’t like beards?” Stan asked, smirking smugly.

“I was wrong.”


	5. Chapter 5

"You know, if we got caught here we'd be in a lot of trouble," Peggy said, wiping her hands with her napkin as she surveyed the McDonald's they were sitting in.

“Because we’re violating the employee dating policy or because we’re eating at Burger Chef’s competition?” Stan asked. He took a bite of his cheeseburger and scrunched up his face. “This is awful.”

“Does McCann have a dating policy?” Peggy asked, frowning.

“I’m not sure, but you are technically my superior and I doubt they’d look kindly on that.”

“We clearly didn’t have a dating policy at Sterling Cooper,” Peggy said. “Don even got away with marrying his secretary.”

“Oh crap!”

“What?”

“Speak of the devil.”

Stan pointed over to where, of all people, Don Draper was placing a tray on the table of one of the booths on the opposite side of the room. He was wearing (much to Peggy’s shock) blue jeans and an orange button down shirt. Two forlorn-looking boys were already seated at the table.

“Maybe he won’t see us,” Peggy said. “Look down.”

It was too late. Don had noticed them as soon as he sat down. He scrunched up his face as though he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Stan and Peggy waved at him sheepishly. He said something to the boys, stood up, and started walking over to them.

“Hello, Stan. Hello, Peggy.”

“Don, fancy seeing you here,” Stan said.

“Likewise.”

“We’re, uh, scoping out the competition,” Peggy said. There was something disconcerting about seeing Don outside of work, let alone not even wearing a suit. She tried to remember if she had ever seen Don wear jeans before.

“Really?” Don raised an incredulous eyebrow. “At seven o’clock on a Saturday?”

“We ran into each other at the movies and thought we’d get something to eat before it started,” Stan said quickly.

“Are those your sons? They’ve grown. I haven’t seen them since…” Peggy trailed off. The last time she had seen Don’s children had been at his and Megan’s wedding. The divorce was still recent and she didn’t want to bring up any lingering pain he might still have. “I haven’t seen them in years.”

“Yes, I have them for the weekend,” Don answered. “And I should get back to them. I’ll see you two on Monday.  Enjoy your movie.”

Peggy watched him return to his table. As he sat down, he looked over and shot her a knowing smirk before he turned back to his sons.

“Come on,” Stan said, touching her shoulder. “We should go.”                        


	6. Chapter 6

As Peggy watched her co-workers milling around the large venue that McCann had rented out for its annual Christmas party, she couldn’t help but feel nostalgic for the cozy yet event-filled parties in the Sterling Cooper offices. McCann parties were much more formal, even sterile to a degree. But, as she reminded herself, she had never really enjoyed herself at the Sterling Cooper Christmas parties either.

"Peggy!"

Peggy turned and saw Ted Chaough walking up to her. He was leading a pretty brunette woman in her mid-forties through the crowd. Peggy smiled at them and looked around to see if she could spot Stan coming back from the bar. She had never been completely comfortable around Ted since their affair ended.

“Peggy, this is Virginia,” Ted said, gesturing to the woman next to him. “Virginia, this is Peggy.”

“Ted’s told me a lot about you,” Virginia said, reaching out to shake Peggy’s hand.

Peggy shook her hand and suppressed an eyebrow raise. She wondered just how much Ted had told Virginia. She was trying to devise the best way to get out of making small talk with Ted and his new girlfriend when she finally spotted Stan navigating his way through the crowd, holding a glass of whiskey in each hand.

“They were out of bourbon so I got rye instead,” he told her, handing her one of the glasses. “Oh, hi Ted.”

“Stan, this is Virginia,” Peggy said. “This is Stan, he’s my boyfriend.”

Stan glanced at her. Peggy had never directly referred to Stan as her boyfriend before. They’d tried their best to keep their romance low-key in the office just in case. It was still early and they were getting used to being in a relationship. The last thing they needed was salacious gossip about them flying around the office.

“Really?” Ted remarked, raising an eyebrow. “How long has this been going on?”

“About two months,” Peggy answered, gripping Stan’s hand tightly.

“Well, I’m happy for you.”

Ted smiled at her. Peggy smiled back at him.

“I’m happy for you too.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Stan?” Peggy looked up from where she had been resting her head on his chest.

It was January 1st and they’d blown off a New Years Eve party held by one of Stan’s artist friends in favor of staying in his apartment and burning through his liquor stash. It was freezing outside and they spent the entirety of New Years Day lying in bed, sleeping off a hangover. Nausea aside, Stan wasn’t complaining. Peggy was always so anxious about work and being unproductive for too long made her antsy. It was nice to finally be able to spend an entire day cuddling in bed with her. It was so cold that she had her whole body pressed up against him, even though they were lying under four blankets.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Peggy paused for a few moments before continuing. “You told me something about your mother a few months ago. You said you didn’t think she wanted you.”

“There’s no question about it,” Stan replied. “I know she didn’t want me.”

“You don’t know that,” Peggy said, frowning.

“My parents had both just finished high school and they’d only been seeing each other for a few months,” Stan told her. “My mother woke up feeling sick one morning. My grandma called the doctor over for a house call and she was in the room when he told her she was pregnant. My grandmother was a very strict Southern Baptist lady, and she insisted they get married as soon as possible. I think she was secretly happy my mom couldn’t go off to college, though she wasn’t too pleased when she found out my dad was an Italian Catholic.”

“Jesus,” Peggy said. “Sounds like my mother.”

“So my parents were unhappily married until my dad died,” Stan continued. “After that, I was passed around from relative to relative while she went away to other cities for work, though I think she just wanted to get away from me.”

“Is she still alive?” Peggy asked curiously.                                                                 

“She died when I was in college,” Stan said. “Car crash.”

“Oh.” Peggy reached out and gripped his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Stan had always resented his mother, and it was only recently that he had begun to rethink his opinion of her. It was his conversation with Peggy about her own child that had started to turn him around on the subject. Yes, she had been a terrible mother, but she was very young when she had him, almost a child herself. She had been planning to become a journalist and was about to go away to college. Instead she was forced into an unhappy marriage with a man she barely knew.

“How’d your dad die?” Peggy asked, before immediately clapping her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m asking too many questions.”

“It’s okay,” Stan said, rubbing her arm reassuringly. “You’re my girlfriend. He worked on an oil rig and he died in an explosion. I was six.”

“Oh my god.” Peggy reached up and ran the back of her hand down his cheek. Her fingers were warm against his skin. “I’m so sorry.”

There was a soft, tender side to Peggy. It was an aspect of her personality that, prior to the beginning of their romantic relationship, Stan hadn't gotten to see much, though he had always known it was there. It had been her guts, determination, and ambition that had made him start to fall for her, but it wasn't until that one late night in 1968 where she had patched him up after an ill-thought-out game of darts that he knew he had truly fallen in love with her. The whole ordeal was a blur, but the memory he had of them alone in the office was as clear as day.

“I don’t really remember him,” Stan admitted. “The memories I do have are hazy.”

“I can’t believe I’ve known you for almost six years and I’ve never asked about your family.”

“I don’t really talk about it to anyone,” Stan said. “I love my grandparents, but my childhood wasn’t great. I left it behind when I moved to New York after college.”

“It's just... You’ve already met my family.”

“Both my parents are dead,” Stan pointed out. “And I have no brothers or sisters.”

“What about your grandparents?” Peggy asked. "And your aunts and uncles."

“They’re all in Dallas.”

“But they’re still alive, right?”

“Are you saying you want to go to Texas?” Stan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe just for a weekend,” Peggy said. “I want to meet your family. And I’ve never been further than Indiana.”

“Well, I am long overdue for a visit,” Stan pondered. “I did miss Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’ll think about it.”

“I’d like that,” Peggy said, rubbing his thigh.

“You hungry?” Stan asked. He leaned over, pulled open the drawer in his night table, and started rifling through it.

“A little,” Peggy said.

“Chinese okay?” Stan pulled a menu out of the drawer and handed it to her. “There’s a place around the corner that delivers.”

“Sure,” Peggy said. Stan watched her eyes scan the menu as he dialled the number on the phone he kept on his bedside table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About a year ago, I read an interview with Jay Ferguson where he said that Matthew Weiner was going to work in a line where Stan said he was from Dallas(like Ferguson himself). It ultimately never made it into the show, though it does fit with a line in a season 4 episode that suggests that Stan has spent time in the south.


	8. Chapter 8

Before Stan, Peggy thought she had a type. She usually found herself attracted to slim, angular men with conservative haircuts and well-shaven faces. 

Stan was none of those things.

He wasn't fat in any stretch of the word. He had the body of football player twenty years past his prime. Muscular with a thin layer of pudge on top.

Years and years ago, while they were still at SC&P, Stan and Peggy had been working late on an account. The conversation had turned to his athletic past. He was the strongest boy in his high school, he had bragged. He won a competition and everything. 

Peggy, who had had way too much whiskey and grass by this point, challenged him to prove it. So he picked her up and piggybacked her around the office until they collapsed on the couch in Harry's office. 

That was the memory that came to her as she lay in bed on an obscenely cold morning in early January, her own naked body pressed against Stan's. 

Lying in bed with Abe and Duck and Mark had never felt this good. In part, this was because she had never felt as comfortable with them as she was with Stan. 

But there was something so comforting about Stan's soft, yet muscular body. He was like a human sized teddy bear. 

"Chief," she heard Stan whisper to the top of her head. "We have to go to work."

"Let's sleep in and say we got stuck in traffic."

"Who are you and what have you done with Peggy Olson?"

Peggy grinned and buried her face deep into his chest, drifting off into a slight snooze as she listened to gentle thump of his heart beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back after... a year and a half or so. I wish I could say I was busy (kinda true) but I was mostly just lazy. This super short little vignette was obviously inspired when I noticed that Stan didn't really fit the type of guy that Peggy had dated up until that point. And also how Stan had a "dad bod" fifty years before it was a thing.


	9. Chapter 9

It was mid-May in 1965. Stan and the rest of the creative team had been working late into the night on Vicks cough drops. Don had called Peggy into his office, leaving Stan and Joey alone in the creative lounge.

“They’ve been sleeping together for years,” Joey told him confidently. “She’s probably blowing him right now.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Stan said, not looking up from his bank pad.

“They have a kid together too.”

Stan looked up at Joey and stared at him at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“A few months after she started working for him, she gained a lot of weight. Then one day, she disappeared. Six weeks later she was back with a trim figure and a promotion,” Joey explained with a smirk.

“How the hell would you know this?” Stan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m a freelancer,” Joey said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve worked at every agency in this town. I hear things.”

“Can you seriously imagine Peggy as a mother?” Stan asked, incredulously. “She doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body.“

"That’s why the kid’s living with her sister. She’s raising it as her own.”

“What would Don want with fucking Peggy?” Stan retorted. “He could have any woman he wants.”

“Because she was his secretary,” Joey said, smirking. “There’s something irresistible about a woman who is there to serve you and you alone.”

Stan started to open his mouth to respond but stopped when he heard the door of Don’s office slam shut and the familiar clack of Peggy’s heels come steadily down the hallway. She reappeared in the creative lounge wearing a typically sour expression in her face and sat back down at the table. She picked up her pen and started furiously crossing things out on her notepad. Stan and Joey exchanged glances as they each got back to their own work.

* * *

 

“I’m just saying that Joan’s husband shipped out well over nine months ago and that kid was only just born yesterday.”

It was almost a year later and Stan and Peggy were once again working late in the creative lounge. Joey was long gone, as was Danny, and the newly married Don and Megan were still in the honeymoon phase of their marriage and only wanted to spend time with each other.

“Some babies are late, Stan,” Peggy said. “My oldest nephew was almost two weeks overdue.”

“Come on.” Stan put his pen down and smirked at her. “No baby is this late.”

“Stan, it’s none of our business,” Peggy said firmly. “And it’s not our place to speculate.”

“You wanna know who I think was?” Stan asked, grinning wildly.

“Stan-”

“I think it was Roger.”

“What?”

Peggy looked up from her notepad and raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve been completely weird around each other lately,” Stan pointed out. “It was blatant. How could you not notice it? Come on, we all know they had a thing at one point.”

“This is none of our business,” Peggy repeated coolly. “Get back to work.”

* * *

It was a cold January afternoon in 1971 when Stan ran into Joey Baird for the first time in over five years. He had been on his way down to deli to pick up sandwiches for Peggy and himself when he saw him, still looking exactly the same as he did back in 1965. It took a few moments for Joey to recognise him however. Stan didn’t blame him. Even Peggy had trouble recognising him the first time she saw him with the beard.

They talked about the usual stuff two former coworkers who hadn’t seen each other in over half a decade discussed. Joey was now working full time at Ogilvy & Mather and was engaged to a junior copywriter. When Joey invited Stan to have lunch with, he had to decline.

“I can’t,” Stan answered. “I’m getting lunch for Peggy. We’re dating now.”

“I heard that,” Joey said.

“She’s been helping out Don with Coke lately,” Stan told him, looking Joey right in the eye practically daring him to say something.

“Ah,” was all Joey said.

Stan felt bad about it, but in truth he had wondered about the exact nature of Don and Peggy’s relationship, especially since she had told him about the baby. It was none of his business, he told himself. Peggy would tell him when she was comfortable. Any relationship Peggy may have had with Don in the past had no bearing on the present relationship she had with Stan.

That night, Stan and Peggy made their way to her sister’s house in Brooklyn. Peggy usually blew off Anita’s invitations to join them for the regular Friday night fish dinner. But since, for the first time in what felt like years, they had no imminent deadlines, Stan insisted that they go.

“You can’t ignore your family forever, Peggy,” Stan told her as they stood together in the cramped subway car.

“You’re only saying that because you don’t know them. Give it a few months and you’ll be avoiding them too,” Peggy assured him.

For the most part, dinner with Peggy’s family was uneventful. Anita spent most of the meal discussing her husband’s latest bout of back pain (Peggy had privately told Stan that she suspected her brother-in-law was faking it but she wasn’t completely certain). Stan had a very heated discussion with Peggy’s nephews about the previous weekend’s Super Bowl. Then the conversation turn to work.

"I haven't gotten to see Peggy that much this week,” Stan told them. “She's been working on the Coke account with Don.”

The room suddenly became very quiet. Anita and Katherine glared at Peggy. Peggy glared at Stan. Gerry was suddenly very interested in his glass of wine.

They left soon after that. It was after eleven so they opted to take a cab rather than deal with the late night subway all the way back to Manhattan. Peggy was quiet the entire time, blowing off all of Stan’s attempts to make conversation with her.

“Peggy, you okay?” Stan asked, as soon as they arrived back to Peggy’s apartment.

“What did you have to bring up Don for?” Peggy practically exploded.

“I’m… sorry?”

“They think he’s the one who…” Peggy trailed off, unable her to finish her sentence. “Because he came to visit me in the hospital.”

“Ah,” Stan said. Why was he suddenly so relieved?

Peggy stared at him, realization slowly coming over her face. Crap, was it that obvious?

“Oh my God,” she said, taking a step back. “Oh my God. You thought it was him too.”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Stan admitted.

“You-you thought I slept with Don?” Peggy stammered. She look extremely hurt, almost betrayed.

“That’s not what I- Look, I heard rumors. Joey told me-”

“And you believed him?” Peggy spat.

“I didn’t believe him at the time, but after you told me about the baby I-“

“Get out of my house,” Peggy said slowly, trying and failing to mask her rage.

“Peggy-”

“Get out of my house,” Peggy said again, this time her voice practically shook the walls. “Get out of my fucking house. I don’t want to look at you right now.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Stan instinctively reached over to feel Peggy in bed beside him. It took him a few seconds to remember why she was not lying next to him. He got up and ate breakfast and pondered his next move. Should he wait for Peggy to calm down or try to repair the bridge himself?

He decided on the latter. He’d waited for Peggy long enough and he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He picked up the phone to call Peggy at her apartment, then stopped himself. It was Saturday, but Peggy would probably be at work. He sat down and mulled over a plan. 

An hour and a half later, he was walking down street to Peggy’s brownstone clutching a bouquet of flowers in one hand and box of chocolate in the other. There was no answer when he knocked on Peggy’s door so he let himself in with the key she’d given him when they first started dating.

He put the flowers in a vase and placed them next to the box of chocolates on the coffee table, and then went to Peggy’s desk to write an apologetic note to her.

“Stan?”

Stan whirled around and saw Peggy standing in the doorway, holding a bag of groceries in her arms

“I was, uh, just leaving these for you.”

Peggy looked down at the flowers and then at the chocolates sitting on the coffee table.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice sounding more restrained than icy.

“Peggy, I’m sorry-”

“Stan, it’s okay,” Peggy interrupted him. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Stan followed Peggy into the kitchen and helped her put away her groceries.

“I overreacted,” she admitted. “It’s just… everyone assumes I slept with Don to get my job.”

“Peggy, I swear I never thought that.” Stan reached over and took her by the hand. “Even back when we first met and we couldn’t stand each other, I was always astounded by your talent and your work ethic. I swear I'll never believe anything fucking Joey tells me ever again.”

"I’m sorry too,” Peggy said. “It’s natural to wonder about the relationship between me and Don. I just want you to know that nothing ever happened between us.”

Stan wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

“I missed you last night," he murmured.

“I missed you too," Peggy said. "I don’t like being apart from you.”

“So you wanna go get some lunch and catch a movie?”

“I’d like that.”

* * *

 

Later that night they were sitting together on her bed. Stan was sketching in his drawing pad as Peggy was looking through the contents of a manila folder.

“By the way,” Peggy said, not looking up from the folder. “It was Pete.”

“Pete?”

“Pete Campbell,” Peggy said. “He was the one who got me pregnant.”

“Pete?” Stan repeated. “Pete fucking Campbell? Jesus, I would have guessed Harry before fucking Pete.”

“Harry?” Peggy scrunched up her face in disgust. “Stan, give me some credit. Anyway, we didn’t have some huge love affair. It was only twice. The first time was two days before his wedding. My first day of work. I thought I was in love with him.”

“Jesus,” Stan said. He ran a hand through his hair. “Fucking Campbell. That slimy little creep. I never liked him.”

“I was young and naive,” Peggy explained. “It was my first time ever with a man. I got pregnant my first time, can you believe it? It’s such a cliche. He was drunk and I was upset after a bad day. I needed the validation. I thought I was invincible because I was on the pill. The doctor neglected to tell me that I had to wait a month before they’d start working properly.”

“You were young,” Stan reached over and put an arm around her. “You made a mistake. It happens. You’re not the one who got another woman pregnant the day before your wedding.”

“Oh and my little nephew is actually my nephew,” Peggy told him. “I know that rumor’s been floating around as well.”

“I guess he really does have way too much hair to be Pete’s kid.”

Peggy smirked.

“In my defense, he had a full head of hair back then.”

“He’s lucky that he’s in Indiana," Stan said. "because I would punch him right in his smug little face if I could.”

“Pete moved to Kansas, not Indiana.”

“Good. The further away he is the better.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Peggy said with a groan. “That’s way in the past. Ancient history.”

“I’m not jealous,” Stan started to protest but Peggy cut him off with a kiss.

“It’s bedtime,” she told him.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these ficlets have been sitting unfinished on my laptop for over year. Some are fragments of a larger story I never got around to writing. Some are just little drabbles I wrote in my spare time for my own amusement.


End file.
